


TWRP mini fics

by vocalfew



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Disney
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocalfew/pseuds/vocalfew
Summary: Tiny little ficlets I've sewn together to form one. There will be continuations of different fics in various chapters, kind of like filler episodes. Enjoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay, I'm aware how much of a DRIVE it is to get from Toronto to Florida???? Let's just pretend that in this alternate universe, that it's somehow just a 4 hour drive and everything is FINE.
> 
> I'm dedicating this work to all my pals that helped me come up with headcannons for this.

"We WON."

A triumphant voice rang out through the livingroom, which was currently nesting three exhausted bodies, all haphazardly munching away at their breakfast.

The sudden shout was too loud for 8:30 in the morning, it was a cymbal crash in a dead music room. Meouch's ear simply flickered at the noise, whereas the abruptness of Sung's outburst nearly caused Phobos to spill cereal and milk all over himself.

 

 

"What'd we win?" Came Meouch's autopiloted reply. Sung was already marching into the livingroom with pride and an armful of mail.

"Disney!" He exclaimed once again, pushing four glossy tickets in front of the lion's eyes, which were trained on the TV. He let out a small noise from the back of his throat as Sung blocked the television with nonsense. Finally, his brain caught up with the already pointless conversation as he diverted his attention to his friend.  
"What's a Disney?"

Sung was bubbling over with childish glee as he sprung around the livingroom. He finally caught Meouch's full attention as he stood back upright with his fists on his hips.  
"It's not a _what_ , it's a _where_! And Disney is..." he trailed off briefly to double check the pamphlet in his other hand for the slogan, "where dreams are made!"

" _Rrrrright_. So you're interrupting Ninja Turtles to tell me that we... won... a trip to Disney to.... make dreams? I got news for you, Doc, lots o' dreams are happenin' when a lady steps foot into my roo-"

His speech was cut short by Sung, who tossed him the tiny booklet, which the bassist leafed through, hoping something would catch his eye.  
  
A castle, two freaks in cartoon mice costumes, princesses, people eating... _Princesses..._

Commander Meouch's ears turned forward in interest as he focused on the line of beautiful women, happily waving towards the camera.  
All of them were elegant and dainty, their dresses all shimmered and their faces glowed. Blondes, brunettes, that one with the cherry red hair was _**HOT**_.  
This was definitely his destination of choice.

**Dreams.**  
_Goals_ , even.   
He was going to woo every one of those goddamn princesses at Disney.

He slowly stood to his feet and reached over to firmly slap at Sung's shoulder before making his way towards the staircase.  
"You're right, pal! Dreams! Magic. Wonder! _Excitement_ \--"

"You saw all the princesses?"

"Yep, and they're all smokin hot. We're goin' to Disney, boys!"


	2. Cooking With TWRP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just let the poor space dad make his goddamn ice and catch it on film.

"Hello, and welcome to cooking with TWRP! I'm your host, Chef Sung. Today we'll be learning a simple recipe I learned here on earth, and that recipe is quite simple, actually.."  
From the other side of the house, a loud crash rang out through the halls.  
Sung paused for a moment, trying to maintain the warm smile on his features. With a simple breath, he continued.  
"What you're going to need is an ice cube tray like one i have here, and a-"  
"SssssssssshIT." the voice shouted again in bitter frustration. Sung's smile faltered slightly, and another loud bang caused the Doctor to flinch.  
"The... the.. um.. Havve... _Havve, cut that part_..." He called over to the robot holding the camera.  
  
**~***~**  
  


"Hello, and welcome to the first edition of Cooking With TWRP. I'm your host, Chef Su-"  
With terrible timing, Meouch's voice boomed through the halls, followed by his heavy footfalls that could be matched to that of a dinosaur's.  
" ** _PHOBOS, DID YOU STEAL MY CONDOMS TO MAKE WATER BALLOONS AGAIN?_** "  
Sung stared awkwardly at the camera, his lips parting as he let out a sheepish breath.  
"Heh.."  
  
  
**~***~**  
  


"Hello, welcome to the first edition of-"  
Without warning, Commander Meouch waltzed into the shot, hardly noticing Havve holding a camera as Sung stared into it.  
"Hey Sung, did you do the laundry yet?"  
"N-no, Meouch," He answered quietly, "I'm busy right now."  
"Well, ya better get to it, Phobos is gonna get the literal shit beat out of him, he's gonna need clean underwear afterwards."  
With a defeated sigh, Sung's eye fell closed.  
" _Meouch...._ " He uttered out desperately, " ** _Please..._** "  
  
  
**~***~**  
  


"Hello, and welcome to another episo-"  
"God _FUCKING_ DAMNIT I GOT CONDOM WATER ON ME."  
Sung smacked his hands down on the table, the marble denting and cracking beneath his palms as he felt rage bubble up inside of him.  
Through clenched teeth, he glared daggers into the lens.  
" _Turn the camera off.._."


	3. Body Image (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We are as beautiful as our flaws" - (Body Image) TWRP
> 
> Meouch looks in the mirror for a little too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: scars, moderate violence, body image, mentioned alcoholism. Please read at your own risk.

Meouch sucked in a breath as he watched his reflection do the same.  
He felt as if his insides were turning against him, collapsing in on themselves out of spite.  
Often times he didn't mind public outings, but tonight he had to turn his three friends down, as they offered to go out to a local bar that had just opened up not too far off downtown.  
  


With concern lacing his tone, Sung respectively pulled the Commander aside to ask if anything had been bothering him, he was always up to go out at night, given the whole nocturnal thing and all.  
  


After Meouch insisted that everything was alright, he forced a bit of his classic finger guns and slang to throw Sung off his tracks, which he wasn't convinced would work. After a bit of awkward and unsure eye contact, the three left the man to his own devices in their house.  
  


He wasn't really feeling _bad_ , but a bit _off_. More than usual, being a half lion on a planet of full humans wasn't always the most comfortable. He had shuffled into the bathroom aimlessly, mostly to just wander around. He was never really left at home alone before, there was always Havve in the other room to sit in silence and keep him company, or Phobos, who was usually tucked away in his bedroom with a good book or something to keep him occupied. The house was empty besides him, which further fed to his uneasy feeling.  
  


He had considered putting music on to kill the dead silence. but even that wouldn't feel right. Tonight wasn't the night to blast music. He wasn't feeling it, he wasn't going to force it.  
Things were not okay.  
  


As Meouch shut the door behind him, he stared into the full length mirror near the sinks. There were a few smudges on the glass, but behind the smudges sat a hunched, tired, emotionally drained man with nothing left but his thoughts to occupy him.  
  


**_Consume_ ** was a better word for it, he decided.  
  
His thoughts were consuming him in a way that he forgot existed until now. He usually filled the void with music and his friends. He should have gone out tonight. He should have distracted his jumbled thoughts with booze and laughter. Maybe it would distract him for the time being.  
Staying home alone was a bad idea.  
  


Meouch's gaze settled on his form. He wasn't exactly the fittest, but he was content with his body for the most part. There were a few here's and there's he'd like to take back, to change, to erase, to cut off.  
  


Feeding further into that thought, he raised a sleeve and angled his shoulder towards the mirror. A large scar rippled down the curve of it, disappearing back into his shirt towards his shoulder blade. He locked his eyes onto the lighter, raised skin as a sigh escape him.  
_Those were the days, huh?_  
  


His smuggling days were long over, but he would always be racked with memories that, no matter how hard he tried, never fled. He often tried alcohol, but it usually made everything worse.  
He was never a mean drunk, but his emotions did get the best of him, and caused him to further isolate himself.  
For his own well being, Sung and the others had to help him control his intake.  
  


For a brief second he'd nearly forgotten how he got that scar, but the shudder that traveled through his body ushered a renewed memory of the pain.  
  
  
  


_"Ain't no friends in the smuggling business, boy," the gravelly, low tone came from over his shoulder as the gruff, sickly coloured, four armed life form clutched the back of his neck effortlessly._  
He could feel the cold metal against his bare skin, the needle sharp knife point bringing a new urgency of means to escape in Meouch's head.  
_Before he knew it, his body was lifted off of the ground, sailing to new heights._  
It was all in slow motion as Meouch grasped desperately at the air, kicking wildly as he tried to land on his feet.  
He had to fight back. He was no match for the huge alien. How could he try?  
_Meouch landed, hard and sudden against a pile of their stock. He felt the crunch beneath him, and suddenly, his entire arm was on fire._  
He quickly looked to assess the problem. A dark red gash adorned the top of his shoulder.  
It was deep and vast, and there was no way he was going to stick around for any more of this.  
_The lion clutched his shoulder and scrambled messily to his feet as the giant, raging man stormed across the room to give him what was only the beginning..._


	4. Breathe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can you drink  
> all my thoughts  
> cause i cant  
> s t a n d   
> t h e m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phobos gets early morning sads. Doc helps.

_Stiff._  
  
 _Numb._  
  
No matter how hard he tried, all he could do was watch.  
  
 _Heat._  
  
 _Agony._  
  
He remembered fire, he remembered failing. _Why?_  
  
Every time a noise came, it was multiplied by a thousand.   
  
Every separate scream became one entire noise as Phobos' hearts slammed in his chest.  
  
  
 _Free._  
  
 _Awake._  
  
The man peered out past his blankets, breathless, mind reeling.  
  
It was just tilting into daytime, the sun was already leaking over the tops of trees in the distance.  
  
This usually calmed him. Now, it filled him with dread.  
  
His body felt heavy, his mind was turning against him.  
  
He was melted wax over his sheets, crumbling across the bed to drag himself away from the visions behind his eyelids.  
  
  
  


It felt like miles to the kitchen, the air past his room was freezing.   
  
As the man stomached the journey across the Tundra hallway, he settled himself into the kitchen.   
  
In the living room sat Doctor Sung, cross legged, eye closed, unmoving.  
  
Phobos grabbed a mug and headed towards the coffee pot.   
  
It was if he knew that Phobos would be out here, there was enough for one last cup.  
  
  
  
 ** _"HELP ME."_**  
  
A woman's voice resonated through him. It was agonizing, enough to shake the mug from his hands.  
  
It shattered at his feet and slid across the floor, as the black liquid splattered over the white porcelain.  
  
He could hear Sung shift.   
  
  
 _Shit.  
  
  
  
_ "Lord Phobos." Sung's voice came, soft and unmoved.  
  
The man was already scrambling to collect the glass shards, being careful not to step on any stray pieces.  
  
He was trembling now, cursing himself, his head, his clumsiness.  
  
"Come sit."  
  
  
  
 _H-hold on a sec, Doc...  
  
  
  
  
_ The shards slipped from his hand again as he reached up to clutch at his head, a blinding white light clouding his vision.  
  
Again, his ears rang, a deafening noise that rattled him to his core. As soon as it came, it was gone.  
  
Phobos opened his eyes again as a gentle hand slid around his bicep and lifted him upright.  
  
It was Sung.  
  
His demeanour was soft and welcoming, as if he was sure Phobos was feeling the same.  
  
"Something is bothering you."  
  
  
  
 _It's nothing.  
  
  
  
_ Sung could see the fright in his expression, and regardless, he invited him towards the spot he sat prior.  
  
"After all of my years of being alive, what I sense from you isn't nothing."  
  
Sung turned and stepped out of the kitchen, making his way over to his seat on the floor.  
  
Phobos turned his attention briefly to the mess on the tiles before following his friend to the middle of the floor.  
  
  
"Breathe."  
  
  
  
 _What?  
  
  
  
_ Doc shut his eye and parted his lips to speak again. His chest puffed out as he rested his wrists on his knees, relaxed.  
  
"Shut your eyes and think of something. Something that makes you happy."  
  
Phobos shut his eyes reluctantly, and sucked in a slow, deep breath.  
  
A warm sensation traveled through his chest as he pictured his shelves of plants.  
  
He focused on the tiny details, the way green faded to red, the thorns on aloe vera.  
  
He thought of his assortment of tiny pots he painted himself.  
  
All of them were made with such care, handled gingerly, all of them were different.  
  
"Imagine a soft light surrounding it."   
  
Sung's voice was a dropped tone, slow and steady.   
  
Warm.  
  
Easy.  
  
  
Phobos felt his shoulders loosen as he focused.   
  
His body felt light, soft and pale.   
  
He was suddenly so fragile, every breath he took had intent.  
  
  
"Keep breathing."  
  
The Doctor reminded in a hushed whisper as their breaths synced up, fell back and synced again.   
  
Phobos felt as if the shell he was trapped his crackled away from his body.   
  
Chips fell from his being and the sunlight that bled in from the window replaced his skin.   
  
  
It was an hour before Phobos opened his eyes again.  
  
Sung's lips were turned upward, just barely, but enough.  
  
He looked content.   
  
Phobos felt everything at once and nothing at all.   
  
He stood from his spot on the floor and made his way back to the kitchen, carefully stepping in to make sure that there was no glass.  
  
The broken mug was gone, and the coffee pot was filled once again.   
  
Phobos peered over the counter to look at his friend, who sat still in an upright position, his eye closed.  
  
Sung didn't move an inch.  
  
  
Going for his second attempt, Phobos drew another slow, deep breath as he reached into the cabinet for another mug.   
  
He poured his coffee, along with his cream and sugar, and took a long sip.  
  
  
  
 _Hey Doc  
  
  
  
_ He watched the yellow clad alien for any sign of response. When none came, he stepped out of the kitchen and turned back towards the hall.  
  
  
  
 _Thank you._  
  
  
  
  
With another sip from his cup, he retreated back into his bedroom.  
  
  
  
Sung opened his eye briefly as Phobos disappeared into the hall, he didn't fight back the smile that came before shutting his eye once again.


	5. Oh, Deceiver.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> was it worth it?  
> can you still sleep  
> the way i used to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was made for a writing challenge with one of my pals from our group chat.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: violence, mention of death, and horrible, mourning phobos.
> 
> disclaimer: i am not sorry for writing this.  
> the title is from a song called Oh, Deceiver by Right Away, Great Captain! And for extra bonus feelings, listen to that while you read this.  
> Love ya.

The hold on the lion's throat grew tighter as seconds passed.   
The anger only multiplied inside of the red clad hero from what he'd done, from how he failed himself, from how he failed his people.   
As he stared into his friend's pleading eyes, the playful spark in them grew dimmer and dimmer. He didn't fight back. He didn't argue or plead, he knew what he had done.   
Instead, Meouch had accepted that this moment would come, and he would have to own up to all of this sooner or later.  
Around the apartment lay Phobos' path of destruction and chaos, shattered glass from the coffee table, broken vases and dents in the walls from where his now bloodied fists had collided.

_You've ruined everything._

Fire reflected in his eyes.

_You've taken everything from me._

Meouch was gasping for breath has he tried to find a grip on Phobos' wrists, but the darkness fading in from the corners of his vision made it hard to focus on anything besides trying to breathe.

**_YOU LET MY PLANET BURN.  
YOU STOOD THERE AND WATCHED._ **

His nails were now threatening to draw blood, and the small noise that came from Meouch's throat was not pleased. He knew that apologizing wasn't going to do anything, but it was worth a shot, for the trillionth time.

"P-phobos, I'm s--"

_SORRY._   
_YOU'RE SORRY._   
_YOU'RE ALWAYS SORRY._   
_ALL YOU DO IS FUCK THINGS UP FOR EVERYONE, AND COME TO REALIZE THAT YOU KILLED OFF THE ONLY THING I'VE EVER KNOWN,  
YOU'RE STILL JUST SORRY._

Phobos was not letting up. He let the fury rattle his bones,   
he let it grow onto him, like another layer of skin, like a new person had taken over his soft, gentle demeanor and contorted it into unbridled rage.  
With all of the strength he could muster, Phobos let out a choked sob between clenched teeth and pulled Meouch by the neck, shoving him back into the tile floor with a sickening crack.   
The weak noise escalated into a growl, which turned into furious screams.   
He bashed Meouch's head back down into the white porcelain tile over and over again, until a strong pair of metal pillars wrapped around his tiny form and lifted him from the ground.   
With great effort, he tried his best to hold on, but was separated from the weakened body beneath him.  
He struggled and writhed as he reached out too grab at Meouch's limp form.   
  
He could see Sung rush to Meouchs aid, tugging at his arm and trying to shake him awake. All he heard was a high pitched ring in his ears over his racing pulse.

Sung shouted frantically as he blurred around the room. Every voice sounded as if it were under water. Every movement made him dizzy.  
  
Despite the fire raging inside of him, Phobos felt an odd sense of calm seeing the sight before him. It was a sensation of peace that came from the violence he created with his own fingers. Phobos broke the panicked silence

_Is he dead yet_

Phobos' voice came, it was foreign to his own ears. it was more of a secure demand than a question  
Sung's voice came, intrusive and faltering as he shot a glare to the space man.

"WHAT DID YOU _DO_."  
The house fell quiet as Phobos stared at the lion. From across the room, he could see the framed photo of four friends with their arms slung around each others shoulders.   
He memorized the tiny quote beneath the four black and white gleeful forms.  
"Friend Until The End!"  
  
 _I showed him how it felt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM AWARE THAT THIS IS VERY OUT OF CHARACTER FOR PHOBOS BUT I REALLY LIKE THE IDEA OF HIM TURNING DARK OVER REMEMBERING HIS PLANET AND HOW HE'S THE ONLY ONE OF HIS KIND LEFT. I might delete it. After writing all of this, it's too violent for Phobos. 
> 
> HOLY JESUS GOD IN HEAVEN IM SORRY I JUST NEED SADS.


End file.
